


Unsatisfied

by MissWoodhouse



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Asexual Angelica, Asexual Character, Canon Era, F/M, There are many kinds of satisfaction, Which is why she doesn't know there's a word for it, introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 15:35:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7513745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissWoodhouse/pseuds/MissWoodhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Different reasons, same result. Alexander might be the only person who could satisfy Angelica, but she knows that she’ll never be able to satisfy him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unsatisfied

So _this_ is what if feels like to match wits with someone at your level! Angelica is twenty-four years old and she has never felt so stimulated before. My God! It’s only been two or three minutes and she already knows that she’d be content to never have a conversation with anyone but Alexander Hamilton again in her life.

She isn’t vain enough to think this is the first time she’s spoken with her intellectual equal, not when her father’s connections have allowed her to meet so many of the men whose words she absorbs on the page. But – perhaps because she had no expectations for him – Alexander is the first not to disappoint in person. The first to make her _feel_ like an equal. To engage her, instead of leaving her silently stewing over the replies she wasn’t allowed to make, the arguments dismissed with a patronizing smile that said not to worry her pretty little head.

She knows that men only look at her and see her inheritance – the money, the looks, the family connections – and she isn’t fool enough to think a nobody like Hamilton isn’t even more concerned with that than trust fund set she grew up with. But it’s nice to feel, for once, that her wit is an asset, rather than the liability the society matrons are always telling her it is. To feel like this man could value her for _her_ – what’s inside the package, as well as all the trimmings.

Talking to Alexander, for the first time, feels like electricity. And for once, she almost understands what the other ladies giggle about when they brush hands with a well-favored man in uniform. What Eliza whispers to her in the dimly lit confidence of their bedchamber about drowning and flying all at once in someone else’s gaze. What even Peggy – prim and proper, _little_ Peggy, who it feels like just yesterday was running around in short dresses – has started to wonder about.

And Angelica? She’s never felt it. Sure, it’s fun to lead a dance floor with the opportunistic boys, while dancing circles around them with her words. Seeing which of them try to engage and which run for the hills. But sometimes, she gets tired of being the Beatrice to Eliza’s Hero (please let them never turn into Katherine and Bianca), especially when there hasn’t been a Benedick in sight. Because she may not _get_ it, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want it too. And maybe scaring them off is a sort of test, but maybe it’s also a defense.

And Alexander walks across the ballroom and reminds her that she wants the romance and the banter and the someone to spend her life with when her sisters have married and left her. And he could be the one.

He could be, except she sees him looking her up and down. Alexander is…hungry, in so many ways. It's part of what makes him burn so brightly and enticingly, but Angelica can’t – even if she’s finally feeling something, she just _can't_  –

Lie back and think of England. Except it isn’t supposed to be England any more. And if women _aren’t_ supposed to want it, well, why else would her sister whisper longingly of things Angelica cannot bear to contemplate?

And this man may have no name, but the murmurs of a reputation surround him, saying genius and firebrand and force of nature, and someone's natural son. And Tomcat.

And if she can’t – _won’t_ – give him _it_ , any more than she’ll stop her mouth and bite her tongue for anyone else, she could never be enough for him. And she doesn’t know which would be worse, the inevitability of his seeking pleasure elsewhere, or the possibility of shackling his insatiable appetite to starve itself for her sake.

If only she could live forever in this moment, with the first taste of satisfaction tantalizing on her tongue. The meeting of minds and – dare she say it? – hearts.

But he could never be satisfied  
So she will never be satisfied.

  
Perhaps Eliza?

**Author's Note:**

> Angelica acts based on a fear, which becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. I absolutely do not mean to imply that an asexual person cannot be in happy, loving, romantic relationship with someone who is not asexual, regardless of whether or not sex is on the table.


End file.
